


I didn't know I was lonely (until I saw your face)

by lovefern



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Zayn, Breaking and Entering, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Girl Direction, Smoothie shop, Zayn-centric, a poorly executed prank, as in they go to a party, cis!boy liam, cis!girl Harry, cis!girl Louis, cis!girl Niall, cis!girl Zayn, lacrosse team vs footie team, party au, side larry is pretty strong, side sophiam is not strong at all, so basically its at a university and thats all that matters, there's some heavy making out and fondling and stuff, this is set in england but i really didn't pay too much attention to that, we get to see into the great mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4138182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovefern/pseuds/lovefern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> "I've literally never had a good tasting smoothie in my life," Niall says, with a stubborn look on her face. "And trust me when I say that's unusual." </em>
</p><p> <em> "Okay, I promise you I also used to hate them, and sometimes now I am convinced Harry puts literal leaves in there, but there's this one she makes- fuck, I forget what exactly is in it, but it's so good." </em><br/> <br/><em> "Make it for me then." </em></p><p> <br/>Uni Au: When Zayn arrives at the party there's a blonde girl sat in a mini skirt with her legs wide open as she laughs obnoxiously loud. Zayn feels like she is looking at the sun for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I didn't know I was lonely (until I saw your face)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wrewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrewrites/gifts).



> Hi wrewrites -- I took some liberties with your prompt but I loved it so much I had to go off on an adventure with it. I hope that pays off and you enjoy it!!!
> 
> This fic is my ode to Zayn (cue the tears) as I tried really hard to explore his character and go beyond the "shy" persona assigned to him always. This is also my shoutout to Zouis for being the realest brotp ever as it continues despite Zayn's absence. And of course, this fic shows my intense love for Niall, who I fawn over many times. Lastly, this, of course, has side Larry because I always have and always will find a way to put them into all of my works.
> 
> Also this is set in England but I genuinely did not britpick this and I know soccer is called footie and I'm not sure if lacrosse is even a sport in English universities but please bear with me and suspend your imagination for the sake of fic!!
> 
> I would suggest listening to "I Wanna Get Better" by Bleachers, "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon, and "Never Been in Love" by Cobra Starship ft. Icona Pop, while reading this. 
> 
> Big shout out to Iz, without whom this fic simply would not exist, as she led me through it. So thank you for that xx. 
> 
> Thank you to Maggie for hosting this exchange and being so gracious about my deadline -- I apologize for the lateness. 
> 
> Title from "I Wanna Get Better" by Bleachers. Lastly, please let's keep the fan fiction amongst the fans -- Do not show this to anyone within the band or affiliated with it in any way. This is a work of complete fiction: it did not happen and I do not know anyone within, so any characterizations are false. And do not steal my work, please.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it (especially wrewrites who provided the wonderful prompt). Please keep in mind I have never written cis!girl pairings before so be kind. All kudos and comments (especially comments- tell me what you think!!) are lovely so the more the merrier. Thank you!

The best part about being seen as “shy” and quiet isn’t that her professors always fail to notice her tardiness. Zayn’s long accepted the idea that she is shy after all of the girls called her that during camp, when they were trying to describe each other without using names. It’s a bit annoying at times, sure, especially when she gets very loud and somebody makes the awaited statement of shock as if her raising voice is a cause for nation attention. It works out great, however, when Zayn can get away with anything in the presence of Louis because the focus will inevitably be on the shorter, louder girl. She and Louis aren’t that different, having been nicknamed partners in crime since their very pigtail days when Louis threatened to cut off the hair of some girl who insulted Zayn. Zayn had offered her safety scissors for the deed (not that they did it, but the story makes for a good laugh anyway). They’re both loud, and have striking features, even if technically all they share are prominent cheekbones and height (despite Louis’ claims that she’s 5”9 because Zayn is 5”7 and at least an inch taller). From their dry sense of humor to their love of sleep and all things junk food, both girls have been practically twins their whole lives (if you ignore how they kissed a few times while drunk- but c’mon what are best friends for). On the other hand, Louis has always been the exciting one to contrast with Zayn’s quiet exterior, with her loud curves and her high voice and her bright eyes and her loud loud loud tendency to be a brat. Zayn’s always fallen back a bit, content to let Louis do the talking, adding in her own few comments when she feels like it. Zayn’s the mysterious beauty, the weird art girl who nobody really wants to take the time to explore; rather they just gaze in wonder. Sometimes Zayn wishes someone would try, most of the time she doesn’t care.  
  
Louis makes fun of her for it, because she knows Zayn is a softie, and her favorite color is lavender, and she used to wear her hair in pigtails until she got old enough to tie it up expertly in art class with any rubber band she could find. She still knows that Zayn loves to paint with bright lime acrylics even if she’s standing in all black. It works out though.  
  
It only got better when the two of them got out of Donny, escaping the small town and leaving behind half their belongings in their rush to get to Uni. It worked out perfectly; Zayn and Louis lived in one ugly dorm room with posters lining the walls at awkward angles in attempts to cover the beer stains old graduates had splattered around (because this was before they could move off campus). It got better because Zayn could finally focus on her art, because they made friends with Eleanor and Sophia, because Louis found Harry (even if Zayn hasn’t found her Harry, even if sometimes late at night she has to convince herself she doesn’t want one anyway). It got better because she met Perrie, (she may have even loved her) and she kissed pretty girls at parties, and most frat boys didn’t even bother with her.  
  
The shyness comes in handy when her and Louis’ latest prank is uncovered and the angry victim is chasing after them- they usually don’t even realize Zayn was involved, thinking it was only Louis behind the scheme. And while it is usually Louis’ ideas, without Zayn (and a copious amount of planning) the pranks would never come to life.  
  
The persona she’s been awarded comes in handy this time as she is trying to get away from the scene of Louis’ and her latest prank. It wasn’t anything special, probably one of their more simple works (nothing will ever compete with the one time they managed to replace all of chemistry mixtures with kids finger paints or that time when they glued Harry’s yoga mat into a tightly packed roll- but that was before Louis fell in love with her, back when Harry was the annoying health freak who would chew her gourmet granola too loudly in class. For Zayn the sound is still annoying, but Louis insists it gives her girlfriend character, kind of like the way she chews gum like a cow or snores loud enough to wake the dead). Now though, they are running frantically back towards their apartment, Harry’s weird yoga ritual be damned, because they cannot afford another trip to the dean’s office. It’s a risky thing, interrupting Harry’s yoga sessions that she claims help her back. She’ll then complain about her aching muscles if she misses it until Louis massages it.  
  
It’s freeing, the way Zayn can feel the wind blow through her hair, the mess only getting worse as the strands tangle. Her feet hurt in her doc martens, the new leather tugging on the skin of her ankle and her dress is probably flying behind her, ass on view for the whole parking lot. She looks back to see Louis smiling brightly with eyes crinkled as she waves her hands in the air. She’s screaming curses like her life depends on it, tripping over her own shoelaces as she rushes to catch up to Zayn. Back in primary when they met, Louis was the more fit one, always running on the field in her ugly pink cleats, but uni has taken a toll on them both and even Lou, the athlete of them all, is falling under the pressure of smoking and junk food.  
  
“Move your massive ass, you shit!” Zayn screams. They’re reaching the edge of the street where the big welcome sign stands, and she knows that the lacrosse team won’t chase them off of the campus, especially considering that they’re mostly just a bunch of freshmen. It’s still terrifying to see four girls running manically after the pair of them, two holding their lacrosse sticks like clubs.  
  
Louis runs past Zayn with a muttered “Oh fuck off, Malik, you’re just jealous,” before finally reaching the edge of the campus. She turns then, flipping two birds to the lacrosse girls who have stopped, deeming the chase no longer worth it. The pair hadn’t even done anything too bad: just a few bottles of olive oil spilled all over their equipment. The lacrosse team had been fighting with the soccer team for the past few months (because apparently the team needs to practice despite their season not starting until next semester) and even though Zayn isn’t on either team, she has earned the honorary title of “Louis’ bestest friend in the whole world and second favorite girl right behind Harry.” So basically, she has to participate.  
  
The lacrosse team hadn’t even noticed her, however, seemingly only focused on catching Louis. To be fair, Louis had been the one standing triumphantly with a bottle of olive oil in her hand when the girls came into the locker room, but Zayn was right behind her, just a bit less loud. It’s what happens when you’re best friends with Louis, especially when Louis is dating a girl as constantly horny and PDA-obsessed as Harry (as if she doesn’t catch enough attention with her tall limbs and soft skin, all curls and mile long legs in tight jeans).  
  
It comes in handy, sometimes, it really does.  
  
Especially when Louis opens her locker a week later and screams when a can of glitter falls off the top shelf.  
  
***

The glitter turns out only for the best. Zayn swears it’s like Louis cannot have bad things happen to her. The little Christmas born miracle comes into class covered in glitter and only three people make rude remarks, one of whom is Chad, but he has a bowl cut so his opinion really doesn’t matter. She works it, though, her short body floating down the halls, sprinkling glitter all over the linoleum floors.  
  
By the end of the day her nickname is “Tinkerbell,” and Harry drags her home in a rush. Zayn looks up from the pasta she had just heated up to learn that glitter turns Harry on as Harry picks Louis up with a frantic kick to the door, and they fall into the apartment.  
  
Zayn slows her chewing, the pasta still cold after their shit microwave, and lowers a fork into the bowl. Zayn learned early into their relationship that saying anything would not stop them. She also learned Louis gets off on having people watch (after the third time they didn’t close the door, despite the action being relatively simple). She watches disinterestedly as Harry spins Louis around in her arms, face buried in her glitter coated neck. All of Louis’ short hair is coated in silver glitter, the sparkles falling down the strands from her shoulders and into Harry’s mess of curls. There are sparkles falling onto the floor, and Zayn cringes at the thought of how much glitter she’ll be picking out of the least expected areas for at least the next week, if not more.  
  
Louis kicks out a leg and wraps it around Harry’s thigh, rubbing against her. They aren’t kissing yet, Harry too preoccupied with licking glitter off of Louis’ neck. Zayn sighs softly, picking up the bowl of pasta and carrying it to her room. She’s barely closed the door when she hears a crash from their living room, giggles following immediately. Two pairs of feet stomp down the hall and into the room beside hers before the door slams obnoxiously. Laying down on her bed, Zayn contemplates her plans for the rest of the evening, considering Netflix as the best option.  
  
There’s a slam from the wall next to hers and she clumsily stuffs her earphones into her ears as when Louis moans loudly. They’re a hot couple, and Zayn’s a lesbian, so sometimes it’s hard to ignore the sounds they make. Especially when Louis seems to be trying to put on a show, her screams sometimes muffled by pillows, while other times it seems she’s pressed her mouth against the wall. There’s another thud and Zayn presses the mousepad frantically, clicking the play button.  
  
With the show not providing enough distraction, She thinks she will paint her nails, considering what color to use. Lately she’s been into yellow, and it’s been showing in her art. Her works are splashes of brightness, but she can’t seem to replicate exactly what she is trying to explain. She doesn’t even have the words, let alone the right shade. Her professor keeps telling her the yellow seems misguided so far, like she’s trying to capture the light but not able to comprehend the source. It’s art professor talk for “try harder,” and Zayn’s been taking the advice seriously. She’s tried everything, from drinking horribly sweet moscato with Louis and Harry before pressing her paintbrush to the palette, to taking hits from her bong before splattering paint all over the white paper, all over her fingers, herself. She’d heard about Van Gogh and how he believed yellow paint meant happiness, how he tried to eat it, but she he doesn’t want to eat it. She knows it’s toxic actually; she just wants to pull out the shining from inside of her. It feels like her fingers are already dipped in yellow paint, every shade of sunshine and lemon tart, but the paper won’t soak up the feeling behind the color, just the exact chemical compound that gives it the hue.  
  
Zayn rummages around under her bed for her nail polish. There are a lot of colors, but most have dried up from disuse or just gone bad due to improper storage. Zayn finds her yellow polish, shaking the bottle vigorously as she hears a moan over the talking in her earbuds. Opening the bottle, she is hit with the scent of nail polish, immediately missing her sisters. She tries not to sniff the polish too long, knows the scent gives her a headache, as she places one hand carefully on her knee where her legs are crossed. She sets the bottle between her feet, the soles keeping it upright but barely. The actual painting process is meticulous; a complete change from the way Zayn puts herself onto the paper. When it comes to art, Zayn has always believed in being a mess, showing her true self. She isn’t perfect, doesn’t claim to be, and her art reflects that. There are splotches and places where paint dripped and mixtures of two colors that should have never happened, but it’s all her. The nail painting is a different form of calmness, a soothing gesture that repeats just enough times to keep her stuck in the pattern strokes.  
  
The yellow looks bright, and Zayn imagines her pointer finger as having superpowers, like the nail polish represents the ability to shoot lightning bolts out of her fingers. She imagines herself as a superhero, skintight leggings destroying the bad guys, like some feminist art-chic hero. For a moment, she pictures someone beside her, like a partner in crime, but not quite Louis in her own black and blue catsuit that she would inevitably wear in such cases. There’s another girl beside her, maybe the girl she rescues from danger. Zayn doesn’t picture specifics, doesn’t linger on the color of her eyes or her stature, she just knows she has a nice laugh. And there’s a spiderman kiss in there somewhere. She doesn’t do this often, this imagining thing. Sure, she’s got a reckless imagination, her mind always going a mile a minute even as she finishes up her first coat of polish on both hands, with minimal messes on her skin. It’s just sometimes, she’s lonely.  
  
Before Louis had met Harry it had always been the two of them. Partners in crime. Best Friends. Practically sisters. But then Louis stumbled into this girl in her theater class. The girl couldn’t act for her life and Zayn would listen to Louis complain for hours about being partnered up with some veggie-loving freak with hair worse than a poodle’s. Zayn picked up Louis sometimes after class, since it was right before lunch, and she watched Harry stumble around packing up her stuff, one hand wrapped around a green smoothie that looked a little like someone’s sick leftovers and her other hand balancing books, like her leather messenger bag wasn’t enough. Her curly hair was falling out of a hideous headband and her eyes were so bright, her smile infectious. Zayn knew why Louis didn’t like her, saw their inevitable attraction like an oncoming train, just a little less painful. And they collided alright, falling together on stage as Harry took Louis down with her on a rather ugly spin.  
  
Louis had immediately jumped up screaming at Harry like the girl had purposefully pushed her over. The ensuing drama was worthy enough of it’s own Tony, Louis finding every chance to complain about Harry and Harry replying with equal snark but lovesick eyes. She looked like a puppy, the way she tried to be mean in return, her feet turned in as she sipped loudly on her constant collection of smoothies, which she apparently made from fresh organic vegetables. Louis had almost screamed when the girl offered to make her a smoothie, proclaiming, “I don’t want your fucking healthy spunk, go wank off a tree.” Harry had giggled, wiggling her eyebrows as she mumbled around her straw, “Yeah wouldn’t you like to see me do that,” before skipping off stage with more grace than she had ever displayed before.  
  
The turning point came in class when Harry had been chewing on almonds loudly, in the only mutual class all three girls shared. The sound was obnoxious, and Zayn suspects it was amplified specifically for Louis’ displeasure as all three of them were sat near each other in the back row. Louis had practically jumped at Harry, ready to throw the nuts out the window when Harry knocked over her iced coffee (on purpose) and they were both asked to leave the room. Zayn doesn’t know how it happened, but when she came back to her apartment just an hour later the two were fucking on the couch, Louis’ head between Harry’s legs as the girl tugged on her hair almost violently. Apparently Louis had offered Harry help washing the dirty shirt, which reeked of caramel syrup, before they somehow ended up tangled together.  
  
Zayn still remembers in horror how Louis had come into the kitchen (after they had migrated to the bedroom for what seemed to be round two) with her fingers in her mouth, claiming, “The whole health freak thing does wonders for her pussy,” before the two burst into loud laughter. Seconds later Harry popped out of the bedroom in Louis’ clothes, introducing herself to Zayn, who, despite how nice Harry seemed, refused to shake her hand until she had washed them three times.  
  
From then on Louis and Harry were inseparable, like Zayn had predicted. They were dating a week later. Harry had cornered Zayn after class and dragged her to the local café, the latter girl still in her art smock. They’d stood outside sharing wheatgrass shots (which lacked any alcohol, or flavor, but that’s Zayn’s opinion) and Harry wrinkled her nose at Zayn’s cigarette. The poor girl was so nervous, blushing brightly when she asked Zayn for help in planning the perfect date. “It’s just that… I really like her, Z, like really like, honestly, it’s weird. I never really hated her either, I know she hated me, but, god she was this gorgeous girl in my class right, and the only reason I joined in the first place was because I needed credit and I was going to drop out, but then in comes this absolute fucking goddess? Zayn, seriously, I’ve liked her for months, I cannot fuck this up. Please,” she drew out, “I promise I’ll bake you cookies or something?”  
  
Zayn had laughed, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the thought of kale flavored cookies, “Are you sure you can bake? You won’t burst into flames from touching sugar?”  
  
Harry ran her hands through her hair, tugging on the ends and laughed brightly. Zayn could see her and Louis staying together for a very long time. “I can touch sugar, and anyway brown sugar is kinda healthy, right?”  
  
Zayn only shook her head, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist as she dragged her back to her apartment. “C’mon, date Louis long enough and she’ll have you eating cereal for dinner. Not even the seven grain fiber kind.”  
  
They’d been friends ever since, Harry carefully melding her way into the group until there were three, as she even moved in with them, sharing the room with Louis after a year of their relationship. It’s hard sometimes, living with the two of them. It means waking up to an occupied bathroom for twice as long as before and falling asleep to the sounds of moans and whimpers. It means finding healthier food in their fridge and having to share Louis most nights, even if Harry is Zayn’s best friend too.  
  
It’s hard sometimes, and she does get lonely. But she has her friends and her Netflix, and if she really needs to she can call her family. So it’s alright. College isn’t all about finding true love; in fact, she prides herself on being one of the few who has managed not to succumb to the hormonal tidal waves sweeping through the air like allergens on a particularly horrid day.  
  
She’s not lonely. Louis and Harry will finish their business and they will all gather around to watch TV and throw popcorn into the air to catch with their mouths.  
  
She sighs as the yellow polish smudges her pinky finger. She’s okay.  
  
***  
  
Talk of the party circulates the school weeks before the actual date, because it’s a Bressie party, and If there’s one thing he does well it’s parties. Normally Zayn wouldn’t care about some boring mess thrown by a group of first years who somehow scavenged up enough money to buy cheap beer. Those always end up with too many vomiting teenagers and a noise complaint to the school authorities. She had been to enough of those herself back in her first year, when she and Louis would go out in their tightest dresses, hoping to get the attention of some older students. Louis had hooked up with plenty of people, her bisexuality a barely kept secret, but her long favorite had been Luke, who was actually her friend at the time. Zayn had more trouble finding girls, often leaving the party alone because nobody was out yet. She herself had only come out that year, but she’d done it in a haste after hiding her sexuality her whole life prior. It had been hard dating boys and flirting with them at school when she couldn’t muster up any attraction to them. Louis had been her biggest help in coming out, especially when she paved the way and proudly proclaimed she was bisexual and offered to fight anyone who had a mean comment about it. There were plenty, sure, and Luke eventually left their weird dating arrangement when he claimed he was worried Louis was sleeping with other people, despite never even setting up boundaries in the first place. For Louis, the entire bisexual trope of inability to commit and promiscuity was a joke at first, as she almost played on the ridiculous crap she heard people say about her sexuality. It wasn’t until she met Harry that she’d calmed down a bit, hardly even looking at boys, and unable to understand why she suddenly couldn’t find it in herself to play with the rumors anymore. By the time they started dating Louis had already given up even so much as looking at other people, or flirting, and it’s a bigger “fuck you” than any of her previous hook ups, as they are still together their third year into university, set up with plans of a nice apartment (translate: crappy shoebox that Harry will stuff with flower pots in hopes of disguising the moldy smell). So now Louis gets off on commitment, on proving that she has a girlfriend and she isn’t a cheating slut like people tried to play her off as.  
  
The problem, however, with a settled down domestic Louis, is that her idea of a fun night is wining and dining Harry, fucking her in the most public place they can get away with, the watching trashy reality tv as they discuss wedding plans (not that they know Zayn heard them, but there’s only so many times Harry can mention the fact that she loves rings, and look at how many rings I have, but oh, I don’t wear one on my ring finger because I’m not engaged. I do like princess cut diamonds though).  This arrangement makes it hard to convince the two of them to come to any parties. Zayn knows she can invite Sophia or Eleanor, but they’re probably already going and Zayn hates arriving at parties alone.  
  
She knows this is bound to be a good party, because Bressie doesn’t allow many first years and he can actually get good alcohol that doesn’t taste like watered down piss. The promise of tequila has Zayn bouncing happily as she stands in her room and contemplates what to wear. She hasn’t yet asked the two sat in the living room, but she figures she might as well get ready first anyway, in case they say no. Zayn opens her large dresser drawer (which she had found on the side of the street on garbage pickup day and immediately hauled back with her), trying to find the perfect outfit. It’s only the beginning of Spring but the air is already heating up and she considers a short purple dress before picking out a pair of ripped skinny jeans. She pairs it with a loose tank top, her pink lace bra underneath peeking out, nipples hard through the thin fabric. Shoving her feet into converse, she runs a hand through her hair, watching the bangs fall down on the side of her face, a little neater than before. She sprays herself with perfume, basking in the soft scent, before grabbing a leather jacket and smiling at her own reflection. She’s wearing minimal make up, just a touch of pink lipstick, but she makes sure it isn’t on her teeth before leaving her room.  
  
The two lovebirds are sat on the couch, their legs tangled together as they watch a home improvement show. It’s a lot more domestic than it should be, considering it’s a Friday night and they haven’t gotten drunk in two weeks.  
  
“Are you guys moving out or something? What’s the occasion for watching so many home shows?” Zayn asks as she grabs a pitcher of water and fills a glass with some, hoping to keep herself hydrated so she doesn’t end up passed out like a first year all over again.  
  
Harry is the one who looks up first, her hair in two space buns as she sticks her tongue out. “For your information, Malik, we don’t all plan on living in crap apartments for the rest of our lives.”  
  
Zayn snorts, covering her mouth to keep the water in. “Touché babe, I hope you two are saving up then.”  
  
It’s Louis who squawks indignantly this time, but refuses to comment on their lack of money. It’s affecting them all, and usually they don’t laugh about it, but sometimes it makes for good humor. She stands up off the couch, stepping over Harry’s bag, which had been carelessly thrown onto the floor. “And where are you going miss?” Louis skips over to Zayn, tugging on her bangs like she did when they were younger. It could have been nostalgic if Zayn didn’t see the laughter in Louis’ face.  
“I’m going to a party, and you guys are coming.”  
  
Harry doesn’t seem to have heard, her eyes glued to the screen as the woman explains how the laminate flooring would change the atmosphere of the room. Zayn can see the curly haired girl’s lips moving along as she mumbles to herself about floor plans and possible tiles. It’s Louis who crosses her arms and spreads her hips a little, taking on her “fierce” stance. It works with other people, particularly fuckers who won’t leave her alone at the club or make homophobic comments, but to Zayn she looks like an overgrown child, a cute one though.  
  
“No.” Louis barely blinks as she says it, looking down at her own sweatpants as if that should provide some answer to Zayn. Her tone sounds almost offended, like Zayn had suggested the most ridiculous idea in the world, like she’d proposed they steal an elephant from the local zoo.  
  
Zayn shrugs, going for nonchalant as she places her empty glass onto the kitchen counter. “Why not?”  
  
Louis laughs loudly, beckoning Zayn to come closer with her index finger. Zayn sighs, used to the dramatics, and comes up to Louis until they are less than a foot apart. “Harry got off her period yesterday,” She pauses, smiling brightly, eyes shining, “You know what that means.”  
  
Zayn barely has a second to step away before Louis makes an awful slurping noise with her mouth. It’s a lost cause then, because Zayn knows that Louis will be taking Harry out for a long dinner before getting to work between her legs like it’s her job. It’s testament to how long they’ve known each other that Zayn can practically hear Harry’s voice in her head claiming that’s the only job Louis can need.  
  
“Whatever fuckers, enjoy yourselves,” Zayn says, waving as she grabs her phone off the top of the fridge and stuffs it in her pocket. “Warn me if you two are having sex when I’m going to be coming back.”  
  
She’s halfway out the door as Harry yells out, “Consider this an early warning then.”  
  
Zayn shakes her head as the door slams. Ridiculous.  
  
***  
  
No matter how bad the party, nothing beats the first steps into it as you walk through the door and see everyone in their own little world. Zayn knows this already, but is still surprised every time. Bressie hosts parties at his parent’s weekend house which just happens to be within a mile of the campus. Zayn has always wondered if his parents were naïve or just careless, but tonight she can’t bring herself to care.  
  
It’s hypnotic, the way she immediately loses herself in the beat as she pushes past people. There are couples dancing together, each one dirtier than the other as their legs tangle in their frenzy. There are some freshmen too, scattered around the edges of the room, blending in with the walls as they try awkwardly try to fit in. The rest of the house seems to be full of talking uni students, all of them screaming to hear over the booming speakers. At least the music is good, and Zayn is thankful that even though she came alone, she won’t have to listen to crap. Her immediate goal is to make it to the kitchen, knowing that she won’t truly be able to enjoy the party until she has some alcohol in her system. Zayn knows the general outline of Bressie’s house, having been to quite a few parties already, and she starts to head toward the direction of the drinks when she feels a hand on her waist.  
  
The action isn’t surprising as she’s used to strangers at parties, but she turns quickly anyway, almost pushing some poor guy who’s already had too much to drink.  
  
“Zaaayyynnnnnn!” The girl shrieks, landing on top of her as she tries to hug her.  
  
Zayn giggles, trying to orient the girl correctly, pushing her away enough to see her face. “Sophia, you’ve hit the bottle hard I see.” The comment isn’t a jab, rather an observation, but her boyfriend Liam seems to pop out of nowhere, ready to defend her anyway.  
  
“She’s had a few to drink, you know how she gets after a long week of exams,” He explains, voice just a little rough competing with the loud bass from the speakers just a few feet away. He’s a cute boy, with a button nose and gorgeous brown eyes, a little on the buff side because he wrestles for the school team. Zayn’s always liked him, and he fit in just fine with their group of friends when Sophia introduced him, silently asking them all to accept him, but knowing that Louis would be the only one to vocalize her dislike if she had any. At first Louis had been a bit hostile to him, claiming that he didn’t seem to be perfect for Sophia, as if she knew what Sophia deserves. Eventually she succumbed, however, when Zayn was busy finishing one of her essays so Liam filled in on a nightly escapade. Zayn still doesn’t know what they did, but considering that was freshman year, it was probably horrible executed.  
  
Zayn smiles at Liam, pulling him in for a hug as Sophia steps back a little bit, her hand immediately going to the back pocket of his jeans. They’re definitely that kind of couple. She doesn’t comment, however, as she wraps her arms around Liam’s broad shoulders and lets him hold her for a moment. She never tells anyone, but all of her friends seem to know that she needs a certain kind of comfort; a touch here and there to keep her close by and feeling warm. She only pulls away when another body slams into hers from behind and she hears the familiar voice of Eleanor, who seems to have brought drinks.  
  
She’s holding two cups with her fingers and Zayn grabs one immediately, kissing her cheek in thanks. “How’ve you been, love?”  
  
Eleanor seems to contemplate the question, closing her eyes for a moment and Zayn watches the gold shimmer across her lids. The thing is, she’s always been beautiful, and they've always had a flirting thing, because Zayn doesn't really know what to call it. El has always felt like comfort to Zayn, a close friend who he could count on to help her forget any issues. Nothing beat one of Eleanor's days out where she would invite the gang and pull them from fancy store to store as they try on clothes they could never afford before going to dinner at Nandos or something equally cheap. If Louis was the one to hold Zayn after her break up with Perrie while feeding her ice cream and weed, then Eleanor was the one who took over for the night when Louis went on dates with Harry (as their relationship was just beginning), dragging Zayn from one nightclub to another as they tried to see who could get the most people to hit on them.  
  
So Eleanor means fun so Zayn doesn't think much as she takes a sip of the drink El brought her, expecting something sweet and fruity. If Eleanor were a drink she would be a strawberry daiquiri, just like Louis would be tequila and Harry would be hard Apple cider. Zayn herself would probably be a strawberry margarita. Because she's cute, and everybody loves her, obviously.  
  
Unfortunately, the drink in the cup is none of the above, and it's really a testament to how much Zayn wants alcohol that she doesn't spit out the weak mixture of WKD and vodka. Swallowing quickly, she grimaces, sticking her tongue out in distaste as if the air could somehow remove the flavor.  
  
"Calder, what the fuck is this?"  
  
Eleanor shrugs, wrapping an arm around Zayn's waist and giggling into her ear, teeth stained blue from the drink. "This is an open bar at a Uni party, Malik, what on Earth were you expecting?"  
  
Zayn is just about to comment on the fact that she was expecting literally anything else and that mixing vodka with blue cotton candy flavored piss doesn't alleviate the horrible taste, only worsens it, when she hears a loud, frankly obnoxious laugh. She's struck with wonder at how loud it must've been to reach over the music as she shifts away from El to search for the source of the sound. The laugh continues and it's so bright, like somebody is emitting sound waves of bubbles into the air when her eyes fall onto the source of the obnoxious snorting.  
  
Which, turns out to be a girl. Zayn doesn't know how she spotted her in the massive crowd of people or how it just happened that the space between them opened up enough to allow her to see, but she is ready to thank each and every bystander that permitted this to happen. The girl is surrounded by a bunch of guys, all of them hollering and cheering, but she's stuck in her own world, laughing along to something Bressie said. Zayn barely registers Bressie, or El tugging on the sleeve of her jacket, because the girl is smiling as her laughter slowly subsides and her teeth are so bright that Zayn wonders how her mouth tastes, especially when her gaze lands on the wet pink of her lips from where she'd been drinking all night. Her eyes are sparkling even from this far away and objectively Zayn knows it's because the girl is drinking, but it doesn't matter, because the shade of blue is striking anyway. For a moment Zayn’s fingers itch, index and middle finger forming into position right in the air, ready to grab a paintbrush. She wants to capture the blue and white and the pink of this girl. Her eyes stray to the girl’s hair, roots covered with a snapback, and the shirt strands coated with light pink dye at the bottom. The dye is a bit randomly placed, almost like a last minute decision and Zayn wants to run her fingers through it, feeling the color as if it could seep into her skin. Zayn has completely lost herself in the girl and her hands are aching for paper, to paint this enigma of a girl in various shades of color, each brighter than the last. Scanning her eyes lower Zayn tries to ignore the way the girls led Zeppelin shirt, which has been cut haphazardly, falls on her shoulders and the way it glides down her chest, ending inches below her breasts- and she isn't wearing a bra, her nipples pointing delicately through the dark fabric. Her eyes scan lower, down the girl’s dainty waist as she takes in her sprawled form where she sits casually on a random plastic chair. Her back is slouched and her arms are hanging over the side of the railing and she's sitting with her legs wide open. Which almost makes Zayn choke on her spit as she registers the girl's wide spread legs and the short skirt barely covering her thighs. The skin is milky white and her legs are pale but Zayn immediately thinks of painting her inner thighs with purple as the girl shifts in her chair and Zayn sees her underwear, a flash of blue before Zayn flushes and looks away, just noticing the heels on the girl's feet.  
  
She could feel her face burning red and she almost passes out when she looks up and notices the girl staring right at her, eyes wide with curiosity and mouth set in a smirk. Zayn tries to understand this girl, with her snapback and her heels and the way she opens her legs a little wider with one eyebrow quirked. When Zayn flushes even redder, so red in fact that she can feel her cheeks burning, the girl drops the cockiness and giggles openly, eyes shining with delight. Zayn feels like she is looking at the sun for the first time.  
  
She looks away quickly, trying to ignore the urge to rush home and paint the emotion surging through her. She thinks of yellow sunlight and then of the curve of the girls smile. And then she thinks she's in too deep.  
  
"Babe, you okay?" Liam's voice startles her and she tries to shake it off; this weird feeling invading her body. It feels a lot like butterflies and warmth in her stomach- which never ends well.  
  
Straightening out her jacket with one hand and handing the cup in her other to Liam, who looks hopelessly confused at the offering, Zayn nods and motions towards the kitchen. "I need a better drink."  
  
Liam smiles brightly, immediately starting to chug hers and she tries not to grimace at the thought of what he is ingesting. She sets on her way to the kitchen, unlocking her phone and checking her messages. There are no new ones, but she notices a snapchat from Lou. Elbowing her way past a rugby player, she presses the snapchat and watches as a selfie appears, clearly taken by Louis as Harry happened to be picking her nose. The picture lasts only three seconds and Zayn regrets not screenshotting it when the next one pops up of Harry reaching for the phone with a pouty face. The picture is blurry and ends just as quickly before a selfie of the two of them appears, their faces in various states of silly as Louis sticks her tongue out and Harry has a straw up her nostril. At the bottom it says "hope ur havin fun". Zayn takes a quick selfie as she enters the kitchen, the dim light making her features more muddled. She typed out a quick: "dont fuck on my bed" before sending it off for ten seconds, hoping that's long enough for them to read and understand the warning.  
  
Satisfied, Zayn reaches the liquor table, which is disappointing, to say the least. There is Bacardi, but that reminds her of an alcohol poisoning incident and a trip to the hospital, Pabst Blue Ribbon fills the counter, but she doesn't even know how someone actually spent money on that and Bud Lite, but the taste reminds her of the way dog food smells.  There's the WKD that El tried to make a drink out of and various bottles of vodka. Zayn searches for some soda, hoping to mix her vodka with something half decent, but the table is lacking anything worth drinking. It's a hard decision but she finally settles on PBR, opening the can and pouring it into an empty cup from the stack to the left of the drinks.  
  
She's just finished pouring the entire can when she hears someone come up behind her, clicking their tongue. She feels a body next to hers and turns to find the girl from before standing next to her, just two inches taller in her heels, grinning.  
  
Zayn watches the girl open her mouth, her lips curving, and she can feel anticipation bubbling at what she'll say. The girl simply smirks, however, leaning against the table, "Pabst? I expected better from you." She’s got a thick Irish accent and it takes a moment for the words to register.  
  
Zayn stutters, eyes zeroing in on the cup in the girl’s hand. “Well it’s better than Coors Light, or whatever it is that you’re drinking.”  
  
The girl laughs loudly, moving closer to Zayn as she reaches into the waistband of her skirt. For a moment Zayn loses track of the conversation, captivated by the skin on show, but is brought back when she see that the girl pulled out a flask. “I have higher standards than that, love.”  
Zayn raises an eyebrow, moving a bit closer to the girl that intrigues her.  
  
“You could too, y’know,” The girl continues, her voice rising with a hint as she waves the flask in the air teasingly. Zayn is too caught up staring at where she is biting her lip to ask for some of the liquor she has.  
  
It takes her a few moments to come up with a good comeback but eventually she bounces back, snapping out of her trance to comment an indignant, “Are you implying I do not have high standards already?”  
  
The blonde giggles, shoving her flask back into the waistband of her skirt. “I don’t know… the lacrosse prank you pulled implies otherwise.”  
  
“Excuse me!” Zayn yells. “How did you know about that?”  
  
The girl rolls her eyes, stepping closer to Zayn to avoid a meaty guy pushing up behind her to get to the drinks. The action brings them almost chest to chest, her nipples grazing Zayn’s chest as she steadies herself with a hand to Zayn’s shoulder. “I’m on the lacrosse team.”  
  
It’s a moment that Zayn will be thankful for always, as she will always reminisce on how she did not thankfully have any liquid in her mouth at that moment, because it would have ended up on the girl in front of her. Zayn’s speechless, momentarily shocked, because of course, of course, the one cute girl, no, the most beautiful girl she has seen in years is standing inches away with red lips and Zayn spent last weekend terrorizing her team.  
  
"I- Im sorry, oh my god," Zayn starts, already feeling her hopes fall. The girl in front of her only looks on with humor in her eyes, like she's barely containing her laughter.  
  
The girl wiggles her eyebrows, "I know sweetheart. You think you're so sneaky, hiding behind Louis like she could take all the blame for that awful thing you did."  
  
Zayn literally wants to shove her head into the keg that's standing in the corner of the room. Here she thought she had a chance with this gorgeous girl and it turns out she probably hates her for the mess. It's all Louis' fault- it always is and this time Zayn will make sure the other girl knows of it. She is usually okay with going along on pranks, and sometimes it can be so fun they talk about it for years after like when Liam joins in or Harry decides to help (a mess, really, but Louis loves having her girl on the team). But it never interfered with Zayn’s love life or hook ups, and now she's got to deal with this- to apologize - before rushing home and killing Louis. She isn't even on the fucking soccer team, yet she's somehow been promoted to star cheerleader for the captain Mrs. Louis Tomlinson.  
  
"Look, it was really bad-"  
  
"Yeah, it definitely was," the girl interrupts, taking a sip from her cup as she moves closer to Zayn so her naked thigh is between both of Zayn’s. Their hips are touching as Zayn smells the hint of tequila from her mouth, though her clear eyes show she hasn't had much. "It was horribly executed."  
  
Which- what?  
  
The girl takes her hat off, shaking her hair out (and Zayn notes her dark roots which are peeking out from the fading bleach), before putting it back on at a different angle. "It was badly done, babe. It's amazing how I’m this first year who is super worried about coming to uni and everybody warns me about the two troublemakers: Zayn and Louis- then my friends and I spend months worrying we'll be the butt of the next joke, us being new and shit. So imagine my surprise when the prank we finally get, after months of fighting over practice space on the field is just a bit of olive oil."  
  
Zayn stares at the girl, mind still stuck on the "babe" and the fact that she knows her name, the fact that she's been looking out for Zayn. So she says the first thing that comes to mind, "if you know my name I should know yours." It comes out sounding a lot more flirty than she meant, but she doesn't regret it when she notes the way the girl lets her free hand move on the table closer to where Zayn has her palm pressed. Their fingers brush before the girl responds, a little too quiet for the loudness of the surrounding party (which Zayn had forgotten was even occurring), "'m Niall, I’m Irish."  
  
Zayn refrains from making the obvious comment about how it's hard to miss this girls nationality, what with her loud accent, instead letting her mind put the name to her face. "So, then, Niall, what would you suggest for a better prank?"  
  
Niall shrugs, smiling wickedly. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you, maybe us lacrosse girls will get you lot back."  
  
"I’m not on the soccer team," Zayn states, a little too proudly for someone who is essentially admitting that she pranked them for no real reason of her own.  
  
Niall seems to contemplate this, decides to tell her, since she shifts a bit so that they aren't blocking the way of another six or so people trying to get their drinks, "So the whole spilling a liquid thing was pretty funny, yeah, I'll give it to you- because it got on the equipment and the floor. We stole the soccer teams practice that day so we had to clean the locker room, I like that, of course, objectively speaking. I didn't actually like cleaning it. The olive oil was weak though."  
  
"Weak?" Zayn asks, "We bought like seven packages of it, we literally saved money on meals that week."  
  
"You should've done something that's a bit chunky, has a texture you know, so it could've dried and left a mess to scrape away. The olive oil took ages, sure, but it smelled nice, and we didn't have to clean up chunks or anything. The color didn't stain either. You guys should've done something green or red- that way we would have had to really clean."  
  
Zayn stares in fascination at the girl in front of her who is reciting these ideas like she had sat and planned them out with pencil and paper. This girl standing in front of her, with her torn up outfit and the mix and match of styles, a complete blur of color, is the most inspiring person she has met in a while. Zayn wants to pin her down, on the inside as well, and get to the heart of her, figure out the colors shining out. Because this is the yellow her professor had been mentioning in art class. This is what's been missing from her paintings when the shade was a bit lackluster, a bit too lemon and not enough sunshine. Looking into Niall’s eyes, Zayn can see the soft yellow ring around the iris, right before it blends into cornflower blue, and that is the shade she's been dying to get on paper. She wants to grab Niall by the hand and pull her back to the apartment, pull her clothes off, pull her apart, before putting her back together on the canvas, committing her to memory, to art. Zayn once read that artists die but art lives on, and she thinks this is the kind of art she needs to capture; this is the kind of person who needs to live forever.  
  
It's all very poetic for a uni party and a sober mind but it still comes as a surprise when Niall blinks and Zayn is pulled out of her daze as the girl shouts, "You should have used some fruit smoothies! There we go! I was thinking of something proper rank that would leave stains and a putrid smell- and then of course, there's this guy in my maths class, Liam, I think, who always comes in with some protein smoothie and it absolutely kills- makes my nostrils want to book the next flight back to Ireland."  
  
"So you can smell the cow shit?" Zayn asks, laughing when Niall’s mouth falls open in shock.  
  
"Excuse me, take that back immediately, you did not just insult my motherland." She stands up to full height and crosses her arms defiantly, as Zayn ignores the way it pushes her breasts forward and makes the nipples push against the fabric.  
  
"Well you insulted smoothies," Zayn replies, trying to stay cool and not talk directly to her nipples. She's about 99% sure that she has nipple piercings but she can't check and she doesn't feel right doing so.  
  
"Are you the defender of the smoothies or something?" Niall asks, face completely serious for once, but her voice seconds away from breaking into laughter.  
  
Zayn pouts for a second before stating, "I have a friend, Harry, you know Louis' girlfriend? She absolutely loves smoothies, we have a blender at our flat and she makes them every day. I guess some taste pretty good, so I have to defend them in her honor."  
  
"I've literally never had a good tasting smoothie in my life," Niall says, with a stubborn look on her face. "And trust me when I say that's unusual."  
  
"Okay, I promise you, I also used to hate them, and sometimes now I am convinced Harry puts literal leaves in there, but there's this one she makes- fuck, I forget what exactly is in it, but it's so good."  
  
Niall raises an eyebrow as Zayn continues listing potential ingredients out loud. "Bananas, there are definitely bananas in there, and strawberries, I think, and mango-"  
  
"Make it for me then."  
  
Zayn looks at Niall who is standing with a smug look on her face, like she'd just challenged her. And it takes Zayn a moment to realize she did. "You want me to make you a smoothie?"  
  
Niall is practically pressed up to Zayn by now, her voice directly in her ear, the soft puffs of air hitting the cartilage and making her flush down to her toes. "Mmhmm. I want to see what the hype is all about, and I trust you, so you gotta be the one to make it for me."  
  
Zayn gulps, almost collapsing onto the floor. "I- I can't. The blender is at my flat and Louis and Harry are having date night, so Id rather not go back yet."  
  
  
Niall giggles, her hair hitting Zayn’s shoulder, strands tickling her skin where her jacket has fallen down a bit. A soft cloud of perfume radiates from her, making the air around them smell like daisies and cotton candy. It's so sweet it could cause toothaches, but Zayn just wants to lick behind her ear, even if she knows logically the taste will be of chemicals not sugar. It's a second later that Niall responds, still casual and bright as ever. "That won't be a problem."  
  
***  
  
When Niall had said that it wouldn’t be a problem getting a blender, Zayn had assumed the girl had one back at her dorms, and they would somehow sneak off into a common room and make the drinks as quietly as possible, maybe even stop by the 24 hour store right nearby to get any ingredients missing. What she did not anticipate was breaking into a smoothie shop, one that happens to be Harry’s favorite place (in the world apparently, besides her bed with Louis- which is really not even half of the disgustingly tmi stuff they tell her).  
  
Yet here she is sat on the counter as Niall rummages around in a huge industrial sized fridge, pulling out different yogurts and almond milks. She’s got kale in one hand and a bunch of bananas in the other as she twirls around with bare feet on the cold tile, her shoes kicked off at the door. Just ten minutes before this she had walked up to the store with perfect ease and kicked at the bottom left of the door, while pulling out on the handle and twisting it twice in the right direction. It was a complicated process and it made Zayn wonder just how many times the girl had broken in already. When they shuffled in, Zayn in shock and feeling extremely uncomfortable, Niall had rushed over to the security alarm system and started punching in numbers, before seconds after the beeping went silent.  
  
She hadn’t said much besides, “Darn thing only gives you two minutes to put the code in. Get comfortable,” before turning on the lights and pushing Zayn towards a counter to sit on.  
  
Now a few minutes later they are trying to figure out what goes into smoothies. Well, Niall is, because Zayn is still freaking out over the fact that they broke in. Zayn isn’t new to a few illegal things here and there; drinking before it was legal or smoking weed, but she had never committed a legitimate crime. Now she’s broken into a smoothie shop- one that she’s actually been to a few times before, and the workers were all so nice. She’s looking at Niall in a different light, still attracted to her (even a bit turned on by the recklessness) but also cautious, because it says something about Niall that she cares so little about committing crimes. Of course Zayn will tuck in a few bills in the register to make up for what they use but it seems Niall’s done this before. She just hopes it’s a nice side effect of the drinking she’d done (not much, but who knows, it sounds like a decent excuse) and that it’s certainly the worst crime the other girl has ever committed.  
  
She’s zoned out in her hoping for Niall to have a clean criminal record (because of course a cute girl she meets and goes somewhere alone with would end up being a criminal; that’s Zayn’s typical luck), when Niall comes back with arms full of different fruits and vegetables. She all but throws them on the countertop, beckoning Zayn over to come behind where the employees usually are.  
  
“Okay Zayn, please, we have come all this way, escaping a pretty good party that my friend is hosting, and therefore probably risking my life if he finds out I’m gone; so without further wait, show me this fantastic smoothie that apparently tastes delicious.” Niall stands at the counter, her arms crossed, pushing her tits up in the thin shirt and Zayn allows herself one quick look down her body where her skirt is twisted and uneven from their fast walk. She’s still captivated by her knobby knees, but forces herself to look up, pushing away any thoughts of Niall’s potential criminal record, her own impending doom if they get caught, and any other inappropriate thoughts about the way Niall’s hair is framing her heart shaped face.  
  
She nods slowly, reaching for the flask that is lying inside of the snapback that Niall had taken off when she arrived. Zayn opens the top, untwisting it with shaky hands and takes a big gulp, almost choking on the strength of the liquor and the sudden sound of Niall’s whooping.  
  
“Damn! Girl, slow down, please, I do not want to clean up your mess if you get sick.”  
  
Zayn pulls off of the bottle, a string of saliva keeping her bottom lip wet from the rim as she wipes her mouth with her other hand, her eyes set in a glare. “You need to fuck off Ireland, I can handle my alcohol too even if I’m not from wherever the fuck you are.”  
  
Niall must notice her petty voice as she comes up to Zayn and gives her a quick hug, letting her chin rest on Zayn’s shoulder as she mumbles with the most serious and concerned tone she can muster, “It’s the beer you had earlier, I don’t know if you can handle mixing.”  
  
Zayn gasps, pushing the girl away and giving her a glare. “Shut up.”  
  
This seems to quiet the other girl for a moment as Zayn puts the flask to the side, not bothering to close it again, and sets about sorting through the ingredients Niall brought.  
  
The pile is mainly a variety of fruits, with lots of berries, and then some different types of leafy greens like spinach and kale. Zayn looks to the side, finding the flax seed, chia seed, and other various things people add to their smoothies if they’re health nuts like Harry. Staring at the different colors of the ingredients Zayn realizes she really cannot remember the mix that is meant to go into the blender, but decides to go about making it anyway because she doesn’t want to look like a fool in front of Niall. They broke in for the damn smoothie, so she’s going to make it worth it.  
  
Niall seems content where she has hopped onto the counter, resting back on her hands with her legs wide open again as she swings them back and forth. She’s watching Zayn, a soft smile on her lips and when their eyes meet she winks. “Get to work then love, I’ve set it all up for you anyway- that’s about half the job already.”  
  
Zayn flushes, tugging down her shirt, and then pushing her hair out of her face as she grabs a blender from the dish rack in the back of the shop. She sniffs it, running a finger along the blades to check the contraption is clean, before standing at the counter, just inches away from where Niall is sat, because naturally, that is where the outlet is. She plugs in the blender, feeling warmth flush through her where her wrist keeps bumping against Niall’s naked thigh.  
  
Since she really doesn’t remember anything, she just starts grabbing random ingredients. Her eyes land on some bananas and she’s sure that they are usually a main component to smoothies, so she starts to peel one.  
  
“You have to give me explanations,” Niall’s voice breaks in, startling Zayn slightly and making her hand brush against her thigh once more.  
  
“I’m not a tv chef,” Zayn protests, as she places the banana on a cutting board and reaches for a knife. “You can pay me though.”  
  
She starts cutting up the banana, following quickly onto another one, before deeming there to be enough. She scoops up the pieces and throws them into the blender, popping one chunk into her mouth and chewing on the ripe fruit. It’s just hard enough where it’s just ripened- her favorite.  
  
“Don’t think I will,” Niall mumbles, but when Zayn looks up, she sees that Niall has her eyes on her fingers in her mouth where she had been licking off any stray stickiness from the fruit.  
  
Zayn suck a little harder, letting out a soft groan (almost too soft to be heard), but the way Niall’s eyes widen and her legs spread open wider as she shifts on the counter suggests she heard it. Zayn lets her fingers out of her mouth with a loud pop, before giggling and moving onto the other fruits.  
  
“Okay, so I put in bananas.” Zayn searches the pile of fruits for something else, her eyes landing on the spinach. “Uh, next, is um, spinach?”  
  
Niall raises her eyebrows, “Do you know what you are making, hm?”  
  
Zayn bursts into nervous laughter, shaking her head as she starts scooping spinach into the blender. “Nope. Completely forgot what goes in this.”  
  
Niall shakes her head, pointing at the blender. “Surprise us then. But go easier on the spinach please,”  
  
Zayn is about to launch into a speech about the health benefits of spinach (something Harry had ingrained in her brain after too many refusals to eat anything with it inside), when she realizes she really has put in a bit too much. She stares at the blender in confusion, wondering what to do, before shrugging and pulling out some spinach, ignoring the way its coating in banana mush. She puts the handful back into the spinach container and then moves onto some strawberries like she hadn’t just done that. Niall’s laughter follows her every move.  
  
As Zayn washes the strawberries and removes the stems she states with a flourish, “And these are strawberries. Locally grown probably. Smell delicious. They’re very red. Observe how I put them into the blender after removing the stems.”  She throws one in with all the drama of a basketball player, bowing after as Niall claps loudly.  
  
“This is the kind of quality content I like to see,” Niall says, stealing a strawberry from the cutting board and almost getting her finger chopped off by Zayn’s moving knife.  
  
“What the fuck! Niall please watched yourself around the chef, I know you aren’t trained to be in the kitchen and you should really respect my area,” Zayn exclaims, faking anger, when really she is terrified that she almost sliced the girl’s finger off. Great first impressions, and all that.  
  
“Don’t worry babe,” Niall says, mouth full of strawberry where she seems to have snuck another couple while Zayn wasn’t looking.  
  
Zayn shakes her head, collecting the strawberries and throwing them into the blender. She reaches for the blueberries and blackberries, scooping a few out of each jar, when the realization hits. “Wait- are you allergic to anything?”  
  
Niall shakes her head, “Nothing here. I am a little bit allergic to shellfish. Actually didn’t even know what all the types were. So this one time my friend Eoghan and I are eating at home and he’s like pulling out all these crab cakes that his mom apparently looked up how to make online and then took ages to recreate. So me, being the good guest, I agree to have some. And then he’s like asking me if I’m allergic to shellfish, and well, yeah, a little. But we stare at these crab cakes and we’re like, okay, this isn’t a shellfish, what the fuck, a crab isn’t even a fish. So we didn’t bother wasting our time thinking about it and just ate the damn things. They were so good too, man, I swear, best crab I’ve ever had in my life. Last crab too, because like ten minutes later my tongue started to itch and swell up. So we call my mom and she’s screaming at me that of course, it’s a shellfish, as if I was meant to know that. Anyway, it wasn’t too serious, like I didn’t even need the epipen, just some medicine. Scared me away from crab for life though.”  
  
Zayn is captivated by the story, not even realizing she has stopped making the smoothie. When Niall talks, her eyes light up and she talks a little too fast for her mouth as she stumbles over words, like she’s so excited to get the story out. She moves her hands a lot and can’t sit still and she’s practically shining. “You remind me of yellow paint,” She blurts out, before gasping and covering her mouth a little bit with her hand, in shock that the words came out so easily. Usually she is able to think things through more, but it seems that Niall has completely pushed away her ability to think before she acts.  
  
“Yellow paint?” Niall asks, head tilted to the side as she tries to understand.  
  
“Sorry, I just, I’m an artist. I guess,” Zayn begins, looking down at the fruit to avoid looking at Niall and letting her see the horrid red blush coating her cheeks. “I think of things in colors sometimes, especially people. Like my friend Louis is bright red, because she’s dramatic and show-stopping and she always gets all of the attention, and of course, she’s passionate. Then Harry is probably orange because she just stands out. And you- when I first saw you I just thought you’re yellow.” She chances a look at Niall, who is sitting with a soft smile on her face.  
  
“What kind of shade though? ‘Cause I really don’t want to be like traffic light yellow”  
  
Zayn shakes her head quickly, grabbing a random fruit from the pile, which turns out to be chopped pineapple chunks and start tossing them in. It’s a testament to the size of the blender that she hasn’t overfilled it yet, in her nervous throwing. “You’re like sunshine yellow. Because I heard your laughter and I looked over and you were just so bright. It’s nice.”  
  
Niall nods, pushing her hair out of her face as she places a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “I’m taking it as a compliment. Thank you.”  
  
Zayn blushes, “It’s nothing really.”  
  
Niall waves her hand, dismissing the thought. Zayn immediately misses the warmth of her palm on her shoulder. “So you’re an artist, tell me a bit about yourself.”  
  
“I paint mostly, but I like sketching. I came to uni for painting even though my parents really wanted me to go into law. It just wasn’t for me, y’know? I’d always loved painting and I couldn’t picture myself in a stuffy suit standing in front of some jury.”  
  
“And what about your parents?”  
  
“Well, my parents are fine with it now- they see I’ve had success at art shows and sold a few pieces, even. I just miss them mostly. My sisters too, I have three, and they’re absolute menaces, but I love them so much. Growing up with them was like growing up with my three best friends. I wish we talked more now, but we’re all busy with our lives. Winter Hols we will definitely all reunited at home, have a big feast, you know the whole jazz.”  
  
Niall nods, attentive. “I only have one brother, I’m jealous.”  
  
“Oh no, I wish I had brothers. There’s only so many times me and Doniya, my older sister, could fight over nail polish and simple shit like that.”  
  
“At least she never tortured you. I’m pretty sure Greg blamed every bad thing he’s gotten in trouble for one me, ever since I turned thirteen. And his loud friends were always over at my house. I was just so happy when he moved out. We really have a better connection now that we don’t live together and aren’t fighting all the time.”  
  
Zayn nods, turning to the smoothie, because she could listen to Niall talk about her childhood all night, but the drink won’t make itself. She goes to the fridge, pulling out some greek yogurt and walks back to the blender, opening the container. She grabs a spoon and starts scooping yogurt into the blender, not really counting the spoonfuls, just measuring with her eyes. “So you ran away from Ireland to here, because obviously it’s better, and what do you study now?”  
  
“Ireland brought the world Guinness, babe, it automatically wins.”  
  
Zayn snorts out a laugh, putting the spoon into the sink, and then reaching for some flax seed. While staring at the different seeds, she decides to go wild and grabs another two containers, despite not having any idea what they contain.  
  
When Niall realizes Zayn isn’t going to argue that fact, she continues, a smug grin on her face. “I’m studying fitness and sports management. It’s pretty shit but I’m probably going to change it soon. I think I want to go into physical therapy, cause I fucked up my knee pretty bad a while back and the surgery and physical therapy inspired me, y’know? Anyway I’m focused on lacrosse for now.”  
  
Zayn looks up from where she had been scooping three different types of seeds into the blender and looks at Niall’s knees before she finds the long scar on one of them. She’s surprised she didn’t notice it before, but now that she sees it, she realizes it must have been a pretty serious surgery.  
  
“It’s ugly, I know.”  
  
“No, no. Niall don’t say that. Anyway it’s pretty cool that you survived a big surgery like that and are still playing lacrosse.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s a miracle I can even play lacrosse anymore,” Niall pouts and stares directly at Zayn. “If only people didn’t give me hell for trying to practice a bit more before the season.”  
  
Zayn gasps, mouth falling open. “You cheeky fuck! I apologized already!”  
  
Niall smirks. “Maybe, but the smoothie will be the real consolation prize.”  
  
Ignoring that, Zayn reaches for the cover for the blender, before turning it on. She watches the machine blend for a minute, letting the speeds shift so that it blends evenly. When the mixture is done it’s a dark grey color and even she, the artist, is confused as to how her combination of colors resulted in that.  
  
She turns to Niall, both of them exchanging worried looks as she uncaps the blender and smells it. “Well, it doesn’t smell bad- it actually smells pretty good.”  
  
Niall nods, but reaches for two glass from where they are beside her and puts them in front of Zayn. “The taste test is what is really important.”  
  
Zayn nods, pouring some of the mixture into both glasses and trying not to squeal at how gross it looks. When both glasses are full she puts the blender back onto the counter and hands Niall a glass as she goes to stand in front of her, her body almost completely sheltered by Niall’s spread legs as Zayn lets her hips hit the counter. They are so close but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable as they clink their glasses and mumble a “cheers” before taking a sip.  
  
Two things happen at once: Zayn feels her taste buds get assaulted by the taste of something so rank she can’t put a name on it. She doesn’t know what she put in it that could have tainted the simple taste of fruits, but maybe it’s the huge amount of spinach or the greek yogurt, or maybe it was those seeds she put in without even tasting or smelling. At the same time, Niall spits the drink out, the liquid pouring down her shirt and onto Zayn’s.  
  
“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Niall shrieks, before Zayn could even realize what is happening. “I’m sorry, please, I swear I didn’t mean to.”  
  
Zayn looks down at her ruined shirt, wondering if the stain will come out. “It’s fine, just think of it as payback for your lacrosse equipment.”  
  
Niall nods, but she still looks worried so Zayn leans in a bit, wiping some smoothie off of her chin with her thumb.  
  
“Seriously, I promise I have enough shirts at home, and I’ve been meaning to do laundry anyway. Now help me figured out what the fuck made the drink so disgusting.”  
  
“I’ll tell you,” Niall mumbled, fisting a hand in Zayn’s shirt, and pulling her closer, whispering in her ear, “Maybe I was right and smoothies really are shit.”  
  
Zayn looks up, surprised to find their faces this close despite the fact that Niall was just pressing her lips to her ear. Zayn can feel her heart hammering in her chest and she feels like she’s going to combust, because she’s been wanting to kiss Niall all night and she’s definite the other girl wants to as well. She cannot handle it anymore, the way her hands are shaking as she sets down her glass to the side, her eyes still caught in Niall’s blue ones, the yellow rings around the irises making her head spin.  
  
She doesn’t know how she gets the courage, but seconds later it’s like all of the teasing from the night has come to a head. Niall’s hands are in Zayn’s hair immediately, pulling their faces together as their lips touch. Zayn lets out a muffled sound, like finally, and cradles Niall’s jaw, letting her index finger reach to her ear lobe and press behind it lightly. Niall kisses like she speaks: fast and sloppy and energetic. Their lips are moving roughly against each other, noses bumping clumsily every few seconds, but it doesn’t really matter. Zayn lets her lips close over Niall’s bottom lip, tugging on it. Niall grunts softly, mumbling a “fuck” against Zayn’s lips as she pulls her closer to her. Zayn’s in between Niall’s thighs, which are wrapped around her hips, and she can feel the warmth from between Niall’s legs against her tummy where her shirt has ridden up.  
  
Niall is enthusiastic, opening her mouth to Zayn’s and letting her tongue flick forward slightly, so their tongues press. It sends a wave of heat through Zayn’s body, as she tugs on Niall’s hair. This only seems to encourage the blonde girl, who starts playfully nipping Zayn’s bottom lip, her hands trailing down Zayn’s waist until they hit her hips, and cradle the bone.  
  
Zayn, fueled by the tension they’d had all night as well as the alcohol she’d had (however small the amount was), lets her hands trail down Niall’s front, pausing at her breasts, where she lets her fingers run along the curve underneath them, feeling her ribs. Niall moans gently, sucking on Niall’s tongue and pulling her in closer with her thighs clamped around her body. Her own hands go to the hem of Zayn’s shirt, tugging on it lightly, as if worried about breaking the bubble they’ve created.  
  
Zayn pulls off with a soft smack of lips, her mouth swollen and spit slick, as she helps Niall pull her shirt off. The girl’s eyes immediately zero in on the lace of Zayn’s bra, her fingers tracing the outline of her nipples as she blows air out of her mouth. “Fuck, you are so gorgeous.”  
  
Zayn nods, leaning in to kiss Niall’s neck and grinning against the skin when Niall leans her head back, exposing more flesh. Zayn wastes no time in biting the skin lightly before letting her teeth graze the skin as she licks across it, sucking the pale flesh between her lips. Niall stutters, her hands digging into Zayn’s ribcage as she mumbles, “Wanted to do this for so long. Wanted you for so long.”  
  
Zayn pulls off, staring at the blossoming color on her neck, as pink turns purple. Niall only tugs her back in, one hand fisted in Zayn’s long dark hair and the other lightly scratching along Zayn’s back. They kiss again, mouths bumping clumsily as Zayn lets her hands run down Niall’s chest, cupping her breasts tentatively. When Niall pushes her chest forward, making her hands cup hard, Zayn takes it as invitation to squeeze, her knees almost giving in when she realizes that Niall does have nipple piercings. She quickly gets her hands under the girl’s shirt, cupping her breasts and letting her thumbs press against her nipples, pushing at the barbell going through each. She lightly pinches each nipple, watching in fascination when Niall pulls off from the kiss and moans loudly into the silent air of the room.  
  
Her fingers trail down the girl’s torso, reaching her thighs and digging in with her nails as she lets each hand span the width of the pale skin. Zayn watches as her nails leave little marks before lightly letting her index finger run along the skin and to where Niall’s panties are soaked through, the lace on them dark with her wetness. Zayn continues kissing Niall, sucking each moan off of her lips as they make a mess of each other, while her fingers run along the seam of her panties, her index finger finding her slit and tracing it as she feels the fabric get wetter.  
  
And when Niall lays her down on the floor, kissing along the inside of her thighs, and sucks her clit through her lace panties what could be hours later, Zayn has never felt so open. It feels a lot like ecstasy; like finding something she’d been looking for but hadn’t even known.  
  
***  
  
It’s cold when Zayn wakes up, and her back hurts something awful, but she can’t for the life of her imagine why it feels like somebody threw a brick at her spine. Her shirt is off, that’s for sure, and her bra is falling off one shoulder, plus she’s almost definite there’s a sticky mess between her legs.  
  
The night comes flooding back in flashes as she hears Niall’s whispers in her ear, stretching her arms and turning to the side on what she now realizes is the floor. Unfortunately, waking up cold, messy, and alone inside of a smoothie shop she broke into was not the plan. She sits up quickly, thankful that she has no hangover, and scans her surroundings, realizing she is lying on one of the beanbags behind the employee counter. The place is still closed and a quick glance at the digital clock tells her its only 8 am, which should give her at least a few minutes to clean up and get the fuck out of there.  
  
She tries not to think about how Niall clearly left her alone. It was her fault for getting her hopes up in the first place. And as she scrubs at a stain on the counter she realizes she isn’t as upset as she is mad. Because fuck Niall for leaving her alone in a smoothie shop after breaking in, after convincing her a nightly adventure would be fun. Fuck Niall for fucking her and kissing her like she was special and making her see sunlight before running off the morning after like some kind of coward. And mostly fuck Niall for not having the decency to at least clean up before she escaped.  
  
Zayn tries to hurry, her hair falling out of the crappy ponytail she’s managed to tie with clumsy hands. The place is a pigsty and she can’t imagine the shit she’s in for if she gets caught. It’s as she’s washing off one of the blenders and thinking of how to lock the door on her way out that she sees a figure approach it.  
  
This is all Niall’s fault, Zayn thinks, and she feels a fresh burst of anger push through her veins. She wants to find the girl, slap her across the face, and maybe kiss her after. It isn’t fair that the one person who could finally inspire Zayn to find the perfect shade of yellow is the same one to disappear the morning after. It’s so horribly cliché and Zayn wants to hit her head against the counter with annoyance at the stupidity of it all. Maybe she should have stayed in and finished Skins on Netflix.  
  
Cursing silently, she drops onto her knees, shuffling behind the counter and into the corner, where a large box of flax seed shipment covers most of her body. Her muscles hurt as she tries to fit as best as she can while the door opens.  
  
A guy walks in, his face disturbed by the state of the café as he rubs his eyes to get used to the dimness of the room. Zayn is surprised to find that Niall is right behind him, almost barreling into his back as he has stopped in the doorway, shocked.  
  
He turns around and stares at Niall, not saying anything, as the girl seems to redden under his gaze, eyes downcast in shame. “I’m sorry Greg.” Seeing her only makes Zayn’s heart speed up as she wonders why the girl came back.  
  
“What the fuck made you think this was a good idea?” The guy, Greg, walks in, tugging Niall along by the wrist as he pushes her towards the counter. He’s got an Irish accent similar to the girl’s and his eyes are also blue, though he is much taller and looks weary with age and his hair is much darker than Niall’s. Zayn gets angry for a moment, watching this man touch her girl, but she’s placated when he continues, “You’re my sister, yeah, but unless you’re doing inventory or working for this company, you do not own it with me.”  
  
Niall rests a paper bag on the counter and lays her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, really.” Zayn shifts back a bit, noticing how Niall’s eyes are scanning the area, a little wide as she takes in the significantly cleaner space. “God, I can’t believe she left.”  
  
“Who left?” Greg asks, popping up behind Niall to reach for a towel that Zayn had discarded on the white countertop.  
  
“Zayn.” Niall sighs, grimacing as Greg throws the wet towel at the side of her face, motioning for her to start cleaning. “I met the most amazing girl last night.”  
  
Greg pauses his surveillance of the room where he seemed to have been mentally taking in damages. “So you broke into my store?” And then it all clicks for Zayn; the easy way Niall jiggled the lock, knowing exactly at which angle to turn it before kicking the bottom of the door, especially how at ease she felt after having broken in, like they couldn’t possibly get caught.  
  
“Fuck off Greg, you would too for true love,” Niall mutters, as she scrubs at a particularly stubborn stain. Zayn almost has a heart attack when she hears this, her hands clutching her chest as she tries to keep her breathing steady. “I don’t even know her fucking last name, how am I supposed to find her?”  
  
Greg gives up on his cleaning, pointing at another stain that Niall has to get, before sitting down at the register and sorting out the machine. “I don’t know, maybe you should call the cops on her, report a breaking and entering.” Zayn almost gasps out loud, pressing a hand to her mouth at the last moment.  
  
Niall gives him an unimpressed glare and he laughs loudly, arms up in defense. “Hey! Be thankful I’m not telling mom about this, or she would very quickly get you back to Ireland. Then you’ll really never find your girl.”  
  
Niall doesn’t respond right away, smiling softly, the tilt to her lips appearing as he had called Zayn her girl. “Greg, you had to have seen her. I have never seen anyone like her before in my life. I mean, I had seen her before like between classes and stuff, and then she’s always with Louis, so it’s hard to miss them, but”-  
  
“Wait,” Greg holds up a hand, a stack of bills in his hand. “Is this the girl that fucked up your equipment?”  
  
Niall nods, cheeks redder than apples as she looks down at her hands where she is playing with a loose string on the towel. Greg takes a moment to reflect before bursting into laughter.  
  
Zayn is seconds away from crawling out from under the counter and making a huge gesture (worthy of the stage, which would surely make Louis jealous, the little theater brat she is). Niall continues, however, stopping Zayn from her grand reveal, “Yeah, she is. But like, who really gives a fuck about washing the stupid lacrosse net seven times because the olive oil won’t come out? I would wash it ten times for the way she was laughing as she and Louis ran away. Most of the girls didn’t even notice her, they were chasing after Louis. But I stood there like a fucking idiot watching her run in this short dress and doc martens and I didn’t even do anything. At least the other girls went back to clean the locker room but I just stood there thinking about her. And then last night at the party I finally get to see her up close when she’s not with her soccer team friends, who probably don’t even want us talking, and she was standing there at Bressie’s party. And Greg, I am so lucky I even got to go, because most first years don’t, but of course Bressie is like my other big bro, and just- she was there. And I finally got the guts to talk to her, and I wasn’t even prepared for how funny she would be. Or how loud and spontaneous she really is when she opens up a bit. And I kissed her, and”-  
  
“That’s enough Ni, I can do without the gross details,” Greg interrupts, He stuffs the money back into the register, shaking his head fondly at his sister. “You’ve got it bad. And to think, it’s all because your stupid team decided to practice a season early.”  
  
Niall picks at the end of her skirt, tugging on the fabric lightly like it holds the answers to everything she could ever wonder. “I need to find her.”  
  
Greg shakes his head, walking past Niall and ruffling her hair a bit. Zayn panics momentarily as she presses closer to the wall with the hope that he will not notice her. Thankfully he doesn’t, as he walks back to the bathroom and kicks the door shut behind him. Zayn lets out a breath, feeling her chest release as she slumps against the wall. She’s tired from the morning already, and she just wants to get some coffee and a cigarette, but then there’s Niall standing at the counter, eyes sad. It’s changed the entire morning for Zayn, as she sees that the girl didn’t really run away with malicious intent. She still doesn’t get why she did, but it seems like at least the girl feels bad. Zayn had no idea she had affected the girl this much, didn’t know the feelings were mutual. She thought it was only her who felt this way, but now it seems maybe Niall understands. Maybe she wouldn’t laugh either when Zayn talked about her yellow aura as they are more sober. She thinks Niall would help paint instead, handing Zayn the colors as Zayn splattered them onto the paper. For a second Zayn considers how Niall would look painted in lavender and soft lemon cream shades, how the hues would paint her skin.  
  
Zayn is so caught in this image, imagining pressing her hands to Niall’s shoulders and leaving handprints in various shades, her fingerprints marking the girl in similar ways to the bruises on her neck, that she doesn’t notice Niall stepping behind the counter. The blonde seems to be thinking as she tucks her hair behind her ears and steps behind the counter. But because Zayn is so caught in her staring at the line of the girl’s jaw and the desire to press her lips there once more, taste the sunshine, like she could keep it in a little candy to suck on when she’s feeling sad, Zayn doesn’t realize Niall is walking blindly, before she trips over the leg Zayn had thrown out in her desire to be less cramped. She had not anticipated Niall to come through the back after Greg, and she yelps as Niall crashes down over her leg, scream muffled by the way she falls into Zayn, her mouth meeting shoulder and tooth hitting bone sharply.  
  
Zayn just manages to catch Niall by the hips, holding her in a steady position so she doesn’t go toppling further into the cabinets behind them. Niall doesn’t seem to appreciate the gesture too much as she still sits up in panic, eyes widening when she sees its Zayn. She seems to go through a process of understanding before she slaps Zayn on the shoulder, eyes big and so so blue. It’s too early. It really is.  
  
“Zayn, what the fuck are you doing?” She asks, voice whispered and harsh, but her eyes glistening with relief. Like she’s found something important to her. Zayn wants to be someone for her.  
  
She shrugs instead, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach and rubs a hand on her neck, conscious of her morning breath. “I, uh, saw Greg, and didn’t know who he was so I hid.”  
  
Niall starts giggling softly before she is in full hysterics, her mouth pressed against Zayn’s neck, air tickling the skin. “You- you- are so silly, fuck.”  
  
Zayn pouts, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with one hand while the other stays on Niall’s neck, where it’s somehow ended up. She caresses the skin, trying not to be too touchy, but unable to help herself. “I thought you left,” She whispers in admittance, eyes not meeting Niall’s, rather staying on her collarbone where the shirt has ridden down. There are light bruises along the skin and Zayn wants to press her tongue there once more to see if it tastes as tantalizing as it did last night.  
  
Niall pushes her jaw up with her thumb, their eyes meeting, while her other hand tangles in Zayn’s hair. “I went to get some breakfast for us; something that wasn’t health crap like quinoa or oats.”  
  
Zayn nods, smiling softly, before leaning in and tilting up a bit to kiss Niall’s jaw from where the girl is still lying half on top of her. “I know that now.”  
  
Niall blushes, face hiding in Zayn’s neck again as she kisses the skin before blowing air on it. “Sorry about my brother, I didn’t think he would come so early, I tried to stop him from coming in.”  
  
“It’s fine- what’s a little heart attack as I plan my future in jail?” Zayn teases, flicking Niall on the nose. The other girl scrunches up her nose, shaking her head and sticking out her tongue.  
  
She pauses when a realization seems to hit as she tenses up in Zayn’s lap. Zayn immediately pulls her closer, worried about what just happened in her head. She doesn’t have to worry long before Niall blurts out her question: “Did you hear me? And Greg, I mean? Like, talking about you.”  
  
Zayn realizes the girl is embarrassed. She knows she can go two ways; one which is a bit more teasing. Instead she nods and leans in to kiss her.  
  
Niall doesn’t let her, though, pushing their foreheads together and whispering “fuck” with a pout, as her breath hit’s Zayn’s lips.  
  
“I feel the same,” Zaym mumbles, leaning in to press a dry kiss to her cheek, before pressing their foreheads back together so their noses are brushing and they are sitting cross-eyed. “I told you last night that you’re like yellow paint to Van Gogh.”  
  
Niall giggles, looking down at Zayn’s lips. “You should tell me about it again just in case I messed it up or remember it wrong.”  
  
Zayn rolls her eyes before whispering, “I could tell you everyday for however long you want me to if you stay.”  
  
Niall nods, their noses narrowly missing each other in what could have been a painful collision. “I lost you once this morning already, I’m taking you on a date as soon as possible to make up for this mess of a morning.”  
  
Zayn raises an eyebrow, her hands tugging on Niall’s pink and blonde hair, “I haven’t said yes.”  
  
“Oh piss off,” Niall pouts. “I already told you I like you.”  
  
Zayn pretends to contemplate, making silly faces as she tries to look serious. Niall’s got a bit of worry in her eyes but her mouth is quirked up in silent laughter as she takes in the girl before her. “Okay, but you have a lot of making up to do for the way I woke up alone this morning.”  
  
Niall wiggles her eyebrows, licking her lips; “I’ll make it up to you many, many more times.”  
  
Zayn shakes her head fondly, tugging the girl’s face closer and letting their lips ghost over each other.  
  
“Just tell Louis to stop pulling pranks on the lacrosse team now,” Niall mumbles, pushing their lips together, morning breath and all.  
  
“Hm, no promises,” Zayn mumbles against her lips, before licking her tongue into her mouth and pulling her on top of her properly.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or if the lack of brit-picking threw you off -- Hope it was good!!


End file.
